Well. This was an interesting beginning. I had a baking request for the beach party, so I headed over to L.'s apartment around 6:30, knowing the brownies take about 2 hours start to finish and stressed because I had to hangout till they were done, then go home, change, walk Wally and get ready. So we baked and had a good ol' time. Ironically, our friend from college who, 10 years ago, was our go-to guy for baking materials, was in town. I hadn't seen him in 10 years, so not only was it fab to see him, but appropos that he was there while we were baking. Also appropriate that he was there while I took my first bong hit in many years. Like, a two foot one. One hit and I was done for. Really. So high.

"Yeah, you used to like my four-footer," J. said.

"Really? I can't fucking remember."

J. remembered Wally, said I used to come over with him in my arm and chill out at his place, with his beloved, deceased pit bull, Sage. I vaguely remembered that as well.

So it's like 8:30 by the time the brownies are done. I'm high as shit and dreading going home and getting ready. But I do, and it's like 10:30 by the time I leave the house. No cabs, natch. So I drive a few blocks east toward the ocean and park several blocks from the party. Walk another ten minutes—did I mention I'd eaten a brownie by this point?—and see the party. Darkness surrounds the drum circle. So I walk with my bottle of cheap champagne—wasn't bringing the magnum of Dom there, obv—my sheet, water, etc., falling deeper into the sand with each stumbling step. I couldn't find those bitches anywhere, and nobody was answering cells. So I plopped down, spread out the sheet and lay prostrate, thinking that was the easiest option. Finally they call me back and Linds walks over to collect me. They were literally right next to the drums. About 10 of them. In my defense, a.) it was really dark and there were clumps of people everywhere and b.) everyone looked the same. Seriously, everyone dresses the same here—in white. But yes, I'm sure the brownies had something to do with it. I found the crew like 20 mins shy of midnight. Had a teeny cup of Veuve after tasting the crap I brought, chilled out. Apparently people were actually requesting my brownies, so I felt quite popular. Not really. I tend to get antisocial when I eat the brownies, while my friends typically get giggly. So I lasted about an hour and a half and was home by 1 a.m. I was with my friends, which is the most important part. But it doesn't really seem like a new year to me. I think my 'new year' was probably the end of the surgeries or Dec. 4, the anniv of my diagnosis. Anyway, hope ya'll had happy ones.